by V. Theia
There was a warble to her throat, emotion big as her fist because she was filled to overflowing with love for him. It was as though the world drifted away, leaving behind only the two of them.
“I love how smart you are and that you can catch me off guard with your bad boy sense of humor. You are the greatest person I’ve ever met, and I’m so happy that you’re mine. This life we have built together is a dream I didn’t know I needed. There’s no one else I would travel this path with. Only ever you. Before all that, though, the thing that made me fall in love with you was your confidence. Since day one, you taught me how to be myself, to never apologize for who I am. You’ve helped me grow as a person. You love me for me, and I love you for you. You make me bold and have confidence, and I believe I can do anything.”
When Zara took a staggering breath, it was to see Rider’s slow grin. He loved her, and it was there for all to see.
“With this ring, I vow to love and protect you, to be at your side throughout the ups and downs of our life, with a loyalty that will never be broken. But most of all, my handsome biker-man, I promise to love you crazily, deeply, and forever with all my heart until the end of time.”
The fairytale dream wedding continued when they were pronounced married, and he swooped in, cool as only Rider could look, and they kissed. It was soft, closed-lipped, and so epic, she was smiling when they parted. But then she blushed with a laugh because everyone was on their feet, hooting, hollering, and whistling.
The ring leaders being the Renegade Souls. Those guys, she grinned.
“Finally, Ri!” One yelled.
“Got your girl up the aisle at last.” Another hollered.
Zara laughed, burying her face in Rider’s shoulder, his hand coming to the back of her neck.
Finally, she thought.
Yeah, that felt nice.
* * *
Capone hated weddings.
They went on too long.
Making him itchy.
He wasn’t against long-term commitments.
He was down to the bones happy for Rider and Zara. This day had been a long time coming for them both. They deserved this more than anyone else did after what they’d endured to be together.
But the whole symbolism of what a wedding comprised of didn’t sit well with him, and he was antsy to get it over with.
He’d bought them a gift.
Helped get Rider drunk for his bachelor party.
He’d even spit-polished the Prez’s Harley for later.
Capone had lost count of how many of these things he’d attended in the last decade. He turned up because he gave a shit about his club brothers and old ladies they chose. But he was the lone guy at these things who couldn’t wait until it was over so he could get out of there and breathe.
Love and soulmates didn’t exist.
Sure, he could see it with his own eyes when he looked at Rider and Zara. Or any of his other brothers who’d gotten hitched recently. Preacher, for example, was a changed man. The guy no longer trawled bars looking for a distraction to his PTSD. He’d got all the good he wanted at home with Ruby and their kids. If he looked around the fancy hotel right now, his eyes would see varying versions of the same love on many faces.
What he meant was that shit didn’t exist for him.
Love and soulmates soured a man when he watched a woman he had a connection with saying her wedding vows to someone else.
Kinda made him jaded as fuck and bitter toward love. Making him wonder if it existed or people were pretending.
Make-believe was a real mindfuck.
You think something long enough it becomes real.
It’s torture.
And no man here knew more about internal torture than Capone did.
That was a crux for him to bear, and only the Holy Mother Magdalene knew why.
He wasn’t religious in the slightest. His mother once had crucifixes all over their house like she thought her son’s badness would be washed away if she appealed to God.
He hadn’t stepped into a church of his own steam in forever and didn’t have the urge to confess his sins either. He’d be there a fucking decade or more. But for him and the Holy Mother Magdalene… she held all his secrets and didn’t tell a soul.
Some might say he was sulking.
Capone would call it enduring. Watching the clock until a decent time when he could split without it looking odd.
Fingers tapped on the fancy white tablecloth, drumming to the beat of the music going on around him. And then a shadow fell over his shoulder. Capone cut a glance up and smiled at the older guy who parked his ass with a withered groan. “Whatcha doing over in the corner? Wouldn’t think there was a room full of pretty girls around,” Krusher grinned with his missing teeth. He placed his cane on the empty seat next to him and took a healthy swallow of the glass of whiskey in his other hand. All the brothers had dressed up for this thing, him included, though he hadn’t worn a tie and the shirt buttons were open at the neck. Krusher had lost his suit jacket but still wore his tie adorned in little Harley bikes.
“Couldn’t get a chance with any of them,” Capone replied, “not with you around, sí?”
The old man cackled. He’d been taking turns around the dance floor with all the old ladies. He was a smooth one, alright.
“They indulge a golden oldie.”
“Sí, one more than anyone else. You got a thing for Tag’s mother-in-law?”
If it were possible, color hit Krusher’s tanned face, making Capone laugh. Krusher’s eyes tracked across the massive hotel banquet room to find the lady in question. “She’s a fine woman. Good dancer too. I might have dodgy knees, but I can keep up.”
“Bet you can, Krusher.” Teased Capone.
“Why are you here alone? Seen the single gals eyeing you up, Son.”
“I’m not interested.”
Krusher cleared his throat, took a slurp of whiskey again. “You, eh…got an eye for the fellas instead? Not judging, mind. I know how it is these days, never can tell who is queer or not. Gia watches a soap with me, and this fella is into his best friend. It’s not looking good for him right now, seeing as how the best friend has a girlfriend, gonna keep watching to see how it turns out.”
Capone chuckled. “Nah, don’t like weddings.”
“Allergic to cake?”
“Something like that.”
The pair watched the crowd for a while, seeing Rider and Zara touring the big hall to see everyone.
Krusher cut into the silence.
“Gotta grab onto happiness where you can, Son. I never took my opportunity when I had it, and now look at me.”
“What? Being the club’s lothario?” Smirked Capone, making the old man’s withered face crack into a huge, unrepentant grin. “You missed out on someone?”
Krusher stood, grabbed his cane, and then clapped a gentle hand on Capone’s shoulder. “The biggest regret of my life was assuming she was better off without the likes of me. She married someone else, not sure if she was happier with him than me. But it was a long time ago. You’re gonna be alright. Don’t make my mistakes. You don’t gotta submerge in the deep end to enter the pool, Son.”
He then shuffled off toward the Russian woman, who watched him with an expectant smile on her face.
He didn’t have the first clue what the pool metaphor meant, and there was no time to give it any thought when the phone in his inside pocket vibrated.
Grateful for the excuse to slip out of the banquet hall, he answered the unknown number as he reached the lobby, out into the cool night air, and the gravel crunched under his feet. “Hello?”
“Giancarlo? It’s me.”
Lucia.
Just like that, his heart went into freefall. A barrage of questions pushed into his mind.
Three goddamn weeks since he’d spoken to her.
Three weeks since she didn’t answer on their usual Friday calls.
Three weeks since he’d wondered had she finally tired of h
is aloof behavior and cut him from her life.
Wouldn’t blame her one bit.
It was something he should have done years ago, not hung on like a desperate prick.
Sweet girls didn’t need men like him. Ones with zero morals and the brass balls to do what he’d done.
He’d taken from his brother on the worst day possible.
But it had started long before that.
The first time he’d laid eyes on a younger Lucia while he’d been driving with Santiago. He’d spotted her through the car window and felt something crack inside his chest. Felt it burn and spread through his skin.
Lust.
It only got worse from there.
“Why are you calling on an unknown number? A new phone?” Was what he chose to ask her, not any of the other thousand more important questions.
“It’s a long story,” she said, sounding neutral. “I guess I’ll start at the beginning if you have time to talk?”
“Sí,” he croaked after a few seconds.
“And when I’ve finished telling you, I’m going to ask you for some help, Giancarlo.”
He didn’t know how long later it was, while he stood out in the cold, listening to Lucia’s melodic voice, that he hung up the phone, made his way inside to talk to Rider and Zara. Letting them know he was sorry, but he had to duck out.
They asked why, and Capone told them a girl he knew needed his help.
His sister-in-law.
They understood because to the prez and his queen, family was everything.
He didn’t tell them this was the woman he’d given his heart to, because that was a bag of worms he couldn’t delve into.
Not when he had a plane ticket to buy.
Capone strode out of the hotel; he didn’t even stop to tell his buddies where he was going.
He remembered standing up as best man for his younger brother on a day much like this and watching Lucia say vows to Santiago.
He remembered the feeling of his chest filling with heaviness.
He’d had questions.
Plenty of time for answers, he thought.
After all this time, she’d finally fled from her father.
Capone might feel a flicker of joy for her, knowing she needed out of her father’s strict ruling.
But he also knew this was only the start of the shitstorm.
The unhappy tension stung his skin.
There was no recollection of Capone booking a plane ticket to Louisiana or packing a bag, or catching a cab to the airport because his mind was reeling.
He was going to lay eyes on the woman who’d tormented him for years.
The woman he’d fucked on the day they’d put his whole family in the ground. The day she’d laid rest to her husband.
“Give me strength, Holy Mother Magdalene,” he muttered to himself.
Tense like a caged lion.
He was going to need it.
Like a kicked dog who was still loyal to its master, he took many fortifying breaths that day and headed toward the danger.
Shit was never gonna be the same after this.
EIGHTEEN
“The contrasting levels to a Prez.” - Rider
He’d watched the girl walking toward him grow from a sad little teen into a bright young woman who he considered family. Rider didn’t know when he’d become a pseudo-father figure to Angela, probably around the same time Zara claimed the girl into their lives.
But that’s what he was, and he took the hug she offered when she got close.
“Hey, kiddo. Having fun?”
“I’ve eaten so much Greek food. I might burst open at the seams.”
That was Zara’s doing. She’d chosen a blend of Texas steak and ribs and Greek dishes.
When she pulled back, Angela was still smiling, a little shyer as she looked up at him. “I’m so happy for you and Zara. You’ve both been amazing with me, taking me into your family. I’m glad you’ve found each other. She’s the best, Rider.”
“That she is,” he agreed, watching as his first son headed toward them at full speed in his little shirt and pants. His boys were dressed identically to Rider. Instead of going to his old man, he lifted his arms to Angela. “Up, Anga.” He demanded with a toothy smile. The girl laughed and picked him up, and he immediately grabbed onto the silver cat charm necklace she’d worn for years. “Don’t you look so handsome, Knox? Shall we get you some food, huh?”
“Yeahhhhhh. I want soda.” His son declared.
Noting where Angela was glancing, Rider cut his gaze to the group of his boys and their old ladies around a table. Snake was holding up his phone. Lawless might not have been able to join them today in person, but he got on a video feed for most of the ceremony.
“Why don’t you go say hello,” Rider suggested. She immediately snapped her gaze back, blushing before her eyes flattened. “Nah, it’s okay.”
“Angie, don’t be stubborn.”
“It’s not stubbornness. Lawless doesn’t want to see me, Rider. That was more than clear with his letter. He was my best friend and didn’t tell me what happened. You all go to visit him, but I’m not allowed to. I get it. It is what it is. He took pity on a stupid kid. I’m not going to whine about him shaking me loose.”
Behind the brick wall of self-preservation she’d had in place since day one, he saw slithers of hurt behind it. Of the entire club, she’d been closest to Lawless. She’d relied on him like a junkie would a dealer. Since he got locked away, Rider had seen her struggling with his absence yet pretending she was fine.
There was a lot of shit Angela didn’t know of why Lawless did the stuff he did.
He reached out and cupped the back of her head, he bent in toward her ear. “One day, you’ll know it all, Angie. And you’ll see it’s not as bad as you’re imagining.”
She didn’t question him. He could guess she dealt with her sadness in her way.
He had something to do, or he might have pushed her into going to talk to the enforcer before his video call ended. Instead, he watched her take Knox over to the food, though her dark eyes strayed to the table of his boys.
No shit was ever black and white, that much Rider knew.
Except for what he intended to do next.
Cutting eyes toward Hawk, he gave a slight nod to let his VP know it was time. And then he went to sweep up his woman. In front of everyone, he yelled over the crowd. “Entertain yourselves for an hour. I need to spend some private time with my wife.”
She blushed.
Everyone cheered as he escorted her out of the hall. She stopped him from advancing into the hotel room once they were on the tenth floor with a hand on his arm.
Their bodies together, love flowing from her to him. “I want you to remember something, Ambrosio.”
“What’s that?”
“Everything you do is for our family. For our safety. You take care of us better than anyone else ever could. I appreciate what you do every single day.”
One massive thump inside his chest, he dipped down until his forehead rested on hers. Reluctant to leave, but knowing this was the best viable opportunity. He had a woman who understood even when she should rage at him for leaving. “But please remember, you are the center of our family, Rider. You are my beating heart. I know what you’re going to do, and I want to remind you, I would die without you.”
“Icy,” he croaked, squeezing his hands around her waist.
“So come back to me, okay?”
“I always will, baby.”
Nothing would keep him from his woman.
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
He kissed her, not as deep as he wanted to. Vowing he’d be back soon.
No one saw Rider slip out of the pricey Denver hotel, or climb into the SUV Hawk parked around back earlier that morning.
“You ready for this?” His VP asked.
“Ready to get it done.”
They spoke little on the way to the clubhouse.
It wasn’t long later that Rex rolled up in his F-150. It was good he could listen to instructions for once, to come alone.
His relative was greedy and would always let that greed decide for him. He didn’t show a sign of knowing what he was walking into.
Dressed as a Texan. A big belt buckle holding up worn jeans, and a cowboy hat, he sidled up to Rider standing in the doorway waiting.
Hawk was out of sight.
He didn’t smile.
But Rex did.
“So, you had a change of mind, huh, boy?” He let the boy go. “Needed some old-timer expertise from a prez who knows his shit.”
“Something like that,” Rider lied.
It was easy to appeal to Rex’s ego when he called earlier and asked if he could help Rider with a problem. Rex all but fell over himself to act the big man in the hot seat again.
“It’s a delicate matter,” Rider added. “Thanks for coming on your own. If anyone thought I couldn’t do this shit myself...” Inflecting shame into his tone was a hard pill to swallow because it made smugness coat across Rex’s face as he laughed. He clapped Rider on the shoulder, following him inside the clubhouse.
It had been a long time since the other man had been inside. Rider watched something like fondness through his eyes.
Pity for him. It was the last time he’d ever see this place.
“No shame in admitting you’re in way over your head, boy. Been tellin’ Ajax for years this shit ain’t for the soft-hearted type. Now, how ‘bout you fix us a drink, and I’ll sort this shit for you no problem. You can’t be lettin’ no fuckin’ other MC step on your toes, or they’ll be ass fuckin’ you in no time, Rider.”
He let the man spout on and on about how superior of a Prez he was to Rider.
Older.
Wiser.
Better.
Blah fucking blah.